My Blogging Mantras

In a workshop I gave for some bloggers earlier this year, I opened by talking about my three blogging mantras — and then had a “facepalm” moment when I realized I’d never shared them with you:

Nothing is permanent.

Don’t panic.

This is supposed to be fun.

If they sound self-evident, that’s because they are . . . but we still lose sight of them from time to time. Today, let’s take a break from phoneography for a moment of perspective.

We can all get caught up in the glamorous whirlwind of blog life: watching our stats go up, up, and away. Responding to a slew of comments on our latest gem. Finding the perfect graphic to use as a new logo. We also all have our not-so-great days. Writer’s block. Misbehaving themes. Fewer readers than the day before.

On those days when your blog makes you want to tear your hair out, take a few minutes and remind yourself:

Nothing is permanent.

From an out-of-place comma to a post you’re having second thoughts about to a new theme that you don’t really like, nothing is permanent. Frustrated with the way that widget looks? Move it. Hate the new theme you just bought? Get a refund. Thought of the perfect conclusion for the post you published last week? Edit it.

Nothing on your blog has to be permanent, and that includes posts; things don’t turn static when you hit Publish. Everything’s editable, changeable, delete-able. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to live with it — so don’t. It’s your blog, and you’re the one who has to be happy with it.

Don’t panic.

Whatever you do, don’t turn left — it’s a dangerous and confusing place. Photo by stevebkennedy

In 2010, I was doing jury duty for a criminal trial. I checked my email during a break, and learned that my site had been hacked: 3.5 years worth of posts gone, with no backup. I wanted to FREAK OUT and get it fixed RIGHT THEN. I wanted to yell at my host, the registrar for my domain name, the person who built my theme, and the guy who drove the bus that brought me to the courthouse. I wanted refunds for everything, including the bus fare, so I could start from scratch. I also wanted to cry. Instead, I had to go back to a courtroom and impartially listen to evidence for another three hours.

You are smarter than I was and blog with WordPress.com, so this is something you never have to worry about, but let my moment of panic be your cautionary tale: panic wouldn’t have helped me (and it definitely wouldn’t have helped the defendant). What helped? Forwarding the email to someone who knows more than me about the guts of websites, and then waiting, painfully and patiently, until she’d had a look around. And remembering that in the grander scheme of the internet, a day without my blog would not grind things to a halt.

Yes, it got fixed. Yes, it look more than five minutes. Reaching out for help and having patience were the best things I could have done. The online world moves fast and we want everything to be just so, but sometimes, you need to take a deep breath to stop the OMGs, get perspective, and figure out what the right fix is. (See also point #1, “Nothing is permanent.” Whatever it is? It’s fixable.)

This is supposed to be fun.

I assume you didn’t start your blog so you’d have more deadlines to worry about, right? In which case, it’s supposed to be fun. If it stops being fun, it’s time to take a step back and figure out why. Are you trying to maintain a posting frequency that doesn’t really work for you? Are you so worried about your statistics they feel like must-exceed quotas, rather than the helpful information they’re meant to be? Are you concerned that what you’re publishing isn’t resonating with people, or with the “right” people? Are you so worried with crafting the perfect post and executing a flawless social media strategy that the joy is gone? Maybe you’ve an overachiever  and you’re worried about all of the above — I’ve been there.

This is your space, so if your blogging isn’t creative a net positive effect, it’s time to make a change. For me, running advertising on my site made me too focused on statistics and churning out posts; I nixed the advertising, reclaimed the blog as my own, and the fun came back. For you, it might be posting once a week instead of three times a week, or writing about what’s really in your heart rather than what you think people want to read. Take some time to experiment and you’ll find your sweet spot again.

Have you ever had to give yourself a blogular pep talk? What guidelines help keep you blogging happily?